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POETS’ CORNER

By US Desk
17 January, 2025

And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters....All things that love the sun are out of doors;

POETS’ CORNER

Poems forever

There was a roaring in the wind all night;

The rain came heavily and fell in floods;

But now the sun is rising calm and bright;

The birds are singing in the distant woods;

Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;

The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;

And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

All things that love the sun are out of doors;

The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;

The grass is bright with rain-drops;—on the moors

The hare is running races in her mirth;

And with her feet she from the plashy earth

Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,

Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

I was a Traveller then upon the moor;

I saw the hare that raced about with joy;

I heard the woods and distant waters roar;

Or heard them not, as happy as a boy:

The pleasant season did my heart employ:

My old remembrances went from me wholly;

And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.

Excerpted from Resolution and Independence

by William Wordsworth

Palm reader

By Abid Agha

In a folk mela, I suddenly saw a palm reader.

"Hey, palm reader, read my palm!

Read my wealth and fate lines, and tell me of my love."

He held my palm for a while, then murmuring, released it.

Gazing deep into my eyes, he broke his silence:

"You are a man of wealth and opportunity."

"But what of my love?" I asked, anxious to know.

The palm reader smiled and replied,

"Your love is more precious than pearls,

Softer than roses, and more fragrant than spring flowers.

Go and discover—it lies within you.

The more you love yourself,

The sooner you'll treasure your soulmate."

The lines of my palm led back to my own heart,

And I left the mela with surprises in hand.

Caged freedom

By Mahvash Irshad

Worthless lives, bombs blow.

Dense smoke, no way out, caged breaths

And red rivers flow.

Crushed homes, parks are quiet.

People live in graves or dark

But flames make nights bright.

Parted away

By Amna Ameer

I don't know

What part of me stays

All I know

Is that inside me

A person

Goes away

Without speaking

Or saying goodbye

It has been doing this

For a long time

It retreats

Says to itself

This is how

I am meant to be saved

But in reality

All I am left with

Is the corpse

Of lost hope

And dismay

Once I get better

I keep telling myself for days

But it keeps getting darker

And the one who got away

Never comes back again

Slowly I lose from within

Parts of me

That had any memory

Of traumas and grievances

I wake up empty

And don't know

How I shall face,

A world of brewing questions

And brimming speculations

Who will tell them?

The person they recall

Isn't the one to answer any plea

The judge, jury and executioner

Neither played a role

I took my death sentence

The day I started to feel

A secret pain

And an even more private battle

There's no piecing together

This unnamed debacle

Words torn down to letters

Meanings that can't be deciphered

A cryptic story written

Tinged with trauma and bruises

There's no healing this time

Even time has run out of excuses